A/N: I know this seems a little off topic and possibly more suited to a Barricade day Fic... But please just go with it...
June 6, 1833
Amongst Éponine's group of friends it had been decided that today was to be marked as a memorial to all their friends and loved ones who had died on the barricade last year. They made attempts to find all the graves for all their friends but knew it would be nearly impossible. Some had been buried back in their home towns, and others thrown into simple paupers' graves with many others who had fallen. They were lucky to have found all that they did. Now they had reached one of their last stops, this cemetery seemed to be the resting place of many of their friends including Prouvaire, Bahorel and others. So they split up and took to their own routes to pay their respects.
"How did you know him?" Éponine asked Daniel as the two of them approached the grave of Joseph de Reuilly.
"We were friends when we were children growing up in Marseilles, he went off to university a year ahead of me, because he was older, but we decided that when I got there we would then take up as flatmates ," he explained, "I would have fought alongside him... But some things got in the way, well I did not make it to Paris before the barricades fell." Then he turned to Éponine, "you know you've never told me about your story of the barricades."
Éponine rubbed her arms, "I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you," she then sighed, "I was in love...Well I thought I was in love... With Marius..."
"Really now?" Daniel asked, only the slightest trace of a smile on his face.
"Yes..." She glared at him, "well all I wanted to do was to make him happy, so I did anything he asked... That's how he ended up with Cosette..." She pursed her lips a bit feeling embarrassed for some of her actions. "He asked me to take a letter to her; he wanted me to leave the barricade, so I did as he asked. But after delivering the letter I decided to return to the barricade."
"Were you mad?! That's insane!" He interrupted.
Éponine ignored him. "As I was climbing the barricade... I got shot..."
"That's awful, but it could not have been fatal if you are standing here before me," he embraced her feeling thankful that he had her.
"It wasn't exactly like that... I was shot in the chest, apparently they had tried to save me but thought I had died, I did not wake until after everyone had died and barricades had fallen, apparently the National Guard doesn't care about the corpses of street rats."
Daniel let go of her, "But how? How could you have survived?"
Éponine shrugged, "If I could tell you, I would, but I just don't know."
"Well it's not important, we are together and that's what matters," he replied.
"But if I had died we would never have met, you would not have known or cared..."
"And I would grow old and become a miserable old man, or some wretched layabout," Daniel cut her off.
"That's not true," she countered.
"You don't know that, it could have been, but now neither one of us will ever need to worry about it," Daniel added, "Should we go find the others?"
"I suppose," Éponine replied, then the two of them walked away from the grave site.
Mirabella stood in front of Antoine's grave with her son in her arms, "Oh I wish you were here to be a father to him... It's going to be awfully hard on my own with him." The baby gurgled a little, "I know that if he ends up being anything like you I'm going to have trouble... But I have 'Chetta and 'Ponine to help me out." Tears streaked down her cheeks, "why did you have to die Antoine?" she whispered quietly, "why?" after a few moments she collected her thoughts and lay roses across the grave, similar to ones he had often gifted to her, she sighed and shook her head.
She met up with Musichetta and soon after that Éponine and Daniel, it did not take long before the group was once again together. As they walked they stopped at one of the mass graves of the fallen, specifically to mourn Andre Feuilly, the fan maker. Surely he was interred in one of these without any sort of a name, eventually to be erased from history as if he never existed. As they continued Éponine noticed a child's grave, it was not lavish or fancy, it was plain and simple, the name had been long worn away with time.
"Wait, I want to stop here just for a moment," she called out to her friends as she approached the grave site, she gave a quick glance to Azelma who seemed to immediately understand what it was her sister wanted to do.
Éponine got down upon her knees near the head stone and withdrew something from her small bag, it was a slingshot she had purchased the week prior. "Gavroche..." she spoke to the head stone. "I know that I will never be able to truly find you but, I wanted you to know just how much I miss you."
In the distance her friends were listening to her heartfelt, one sided conversation, the way she spoke as if Gavroche had been standing right next to her. "Azelma and I are getting along fine," she smiled and laughed weakly, "we flew the coop just like you did, only know I wish that I had done it sooner, you were right I need to listen to you more often... You have good advice." She continued to speak, she was also getting a little teary, "Oh God..." she sighed, "my petite- Gavroche... How could this have happened to you? Why you and not me?" Her tears flowed freely now and she made an attempt to wipe them away. "I know, I know, you don't want me to cry because I'm stronger than that..." she paused for a moment and looked at the slingshot she was still holding.
"I almost forgot, this is for you," she lay the slingshot down onto the stone, "figured you would like it more then flowers... Just don't hit any people with it alright?" she added with a scolding tone, "perhaps we'll talk again soon... Or if not, then the same time next year."
She felt a hand being placed on her shoulder and turned to see Azelma standing behind her, "I miss you too little brother," she added quietly.
Éponine stood up and hugged her sister tightly, "It'll be alright 'Ponine," Azelma tried to comfort her sister when in fact she didn't feel much better herself, "we still have each other in the end." And together they walked away from the unknown child's grave and rejoined their somber party of friends.
When they all approached Alexandre Enjolras's grave there was silence, it was a plain grave that had nothing more then his name, years, and a little about his family. Looking at the bottom there was small epitaph that seemed like an afterthought because it had nothing to do with Enjolras's ideals. Clearly his family wanted him remembered (after all the Enjolras name was strong one), but because of his participation in the insurrection he didn't merit being buried with the rest of his family.
They had done their best and at the end of the day many tears were shed. In order to try and lighten their moods they went to see the Cafe Musain, which had been rebuilt. Entering it there was a sort of ghostly air about it Éponine thought, recalling that the last time she had been there was a year ago and she had been lying on a table and thought to be dead. She could see a look of nervousness on Marius's face, he almost looked as white as a sheet, and judging by the silence from the rest of the crowd she wondered if they had made poor plans in coming here.
"Monsieur Marius Pontmercy?" A young woman with frizzy brown hair approached him, immediately he recognized her, "Louison?" he asked.
She nodded her head, "Are you the only one who?" she stopped, "oh it's just awful... I knew when they fell and that I never saw 'em again... But now seeing you!" She smiled. "I would suppose you and your friends here would like a table?"
"Yes we would," He had regained some of his color, "thank you Louison."
"No problem Monsieur," she nodded and gestured for him to follow her to the back room.
"This is eerie," Éponine whispered to Marius, when they entered, the room looked practically untouched, of course she had scarcely ever been in the back room but she couldn't help but think it was as if at any moment she was to expect Courfeyrac to come bounding in. Or that she could see the shadow of Enjolras feverishly working on some sort of a speech or essay, none of the rest of their friends seemed to notice this or say anything.
It was a quiet evening, no loud laughing, nor rowdy drinking, no crude jokes that would normally be followed by a burning glare from Éponine. It was just a quiet meal between friends on a day when many others should have been present but sadly it was not to be so.